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The Old Front Porch
Ashen boards groaning brittle
Greets of creaking a missed ole friend
Aromas free dank rotting spirit timber
As each footfolds bows and bends
Phantom kids swing upon the rust
Rock forgotten upon an antique chair
Gray age thickset below swallowed dust
Only silence of that broken now sit and stare
Thistles homestead under shadow's song
Filling every lost, cracks of vacancy
And doorways cling with screens holding on
To the aching hinge, put to rest in apathy
Acorn clicks off renting squirrels going nuts
Through gutters and suicidal shingle roofs
In and out of rotted spouting holes
While spiders spinning webs in every other nook
Beneath all this rain barrels eras prehistoric
Spilling over ancient emerald elemental green
My boyhood house back and front
I still hold in fondness of long ago esteem
Where times were shared, played out in morn and eve
Lemon noons and long sips on summer breeze ice teas
All grown up upon this now decaying rustic porch
Living on in veranda hearts and in my childhood dreams
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